


Choosing a Side

by Julesss



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Crushes, Gen, How Thomas asks Richard for help with the footman problem, M/M, Missing Scene, Richard has no idea what's going on in this place but he's down for it anyway, a few hairpins are dropped, i'm not sure what else to tag this as
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 01:30:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21330031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Julesss/pseuds/Julesss
Summary: Richard gets an intriguing  request. It would probably be in his best interest to say no.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis, pre Thomas Barrow/Richard Ellis
Comments: 12
Kudos: 122





	Choosing a Side

**Author's Note:**

> I was really curious as to how Thomas would've asked Richard for help with this, given that it would be pretty risky to ask someone you didn't know very well for help with something like this. I'm not completely happy with it yet, but it's been sitting mostly finished for a couple weeks so I figured I'd publish it now or I never would.

  


Richard took a deep breath and tried to ignore the sounds of chaos that echoed throughout the house. He sat at the cramped desk in the room he’d been temporarily assigned, pen in hand. One of the buttons had gone missing from His Majesty’s dinner jackets. The button itself wasn’t particularly valuable, but he had unfortunately somehow neglected to bring any replacements. He’d forget his own head next, honestly. 

  


So here he sat, a grown man, about to draft a letter about a single button to another grown man. Though Miller wasn’t a bad sort and he wasn’t likely to get any real grief over this it was still a bit humiliating. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose hard enough that it was just on the edge of hurting.

  


He heard footsteps approaching and prayed to whoever was listening to let them pass him by. Last time in had been the stone-faced grey-haired butler puffing on about how he was in control now and apologizing profusely at the substandard state of their accommodations. Honestly, Richard wasn’t sure what all had happened with that but if anyone thought this man could take control of Mr. Wilson, they were sorely mistaken. 

  


“Well it appears Himself’s in a bit of a mood,” Mr. Barrow’s voice drifted through the doorway. A smile came to Richard’s lips unbidden, but he didn’t turn around yet. Best not to seem too eager. He was relieved it was him, not that he  really minded any of the others here. He’d noticed Mr. Barrow the second he’d stepped out of the car and each chance for further study had left him more enticed. 

  


He thought he’d noticed Mr. Barrow’s eyes glance in his direction a few more times than strictly necessary over the course of luncheon, though he’d no plans to do anything foolish—at least not without more of a sign than that. He did, however, have every intention of giving Mr. Barrow the opportunity to do something foolish and if he didn’t Richard supposed 

  


“Is he?” Richard asked. He saw Mr. Barrow raise an eyebrow through the small mirror above the desk.

  


“Not sure what else you’d call this,” Barrow said, gesturing back to the hallway.

  


And sure enough now that he listened for it, Richard could hear the sharp tones of Mr. Wilson wafting all the way from the stairs, no doubt terrifying some poor footman or maid. Richard was grateful that as a valet, he was always a bit more outside of Mr. Wilson’s influence. 

  


“You’re awfully lucky if you think this is him in a bad mood. You should have seen when we visited Italy a few years back, the man was shouting orders from dusk ‘til dawn, not allowing anyone a moment’s peace,” Richard said turning to face him as they both laughed. Mr. Barrow was leaning against the doorway as he had been earlier, the same air of clearly feigned casualness about him. It was terribly endearing. 

  


“I can imagine,” Mr. Barrow said. He seemed as if he was about to continue but suddenly fell silent. 

  


“Maybe, but God it was awful. The way the man went on about the staff at the houses we stayed at not speaking English all while not bothering to learn a lick of Italian on Italian soil,” Richard exaggerated a bit. He’d overheard a few choice remarks to Mrs. Webb sneaking past the butler’s pantry one night. Still, it wasn’t as if the old bastard didn’t deserve it and it was worth it to see the scandalized amusement on Mr. Barrow’s face.

  


“Christ, I don’t know how long I could put up with that for,” after a moment’s hesitation Mr. Barrow finally took a step inside the door. Richard decided he was glad the rooms here were so small.

  


“I thought I would die of secondhand shame and I’m not often ashamed,” he quirked an eyebrow and held Mr. Barrow's gaze for a second longer than was entirely proper. The man looked away, appearing flushed but not displeased. That boded well for their trip to York, though Richard was getting ahead of himself. He had to wait for Mr. Barrow to do something nigh on unmistakable to make any actual advances, the risk was too great otherwise.

  


“You close with any of the others then?” there was something searching buried in his tone and he hunched his shoulders in a bit. Mr. Barrow was clearly fishing for something there and Richard felt a shiver run down his spine and sweat begin to form on the back of his neck. He had been more forward with that than he usually was. While Mr. Barrow’s demeanor was still friendly there was an underlying current of nervousness to him now that put Richard on edge. Best to act as unruffled as possible then. 

  


“Not in particular, why?” he kept his tone as neutral as possible. It was the truth, he tended to stay in the background, smiling apologetically at whoever’s toes had been stepped on most harshly.

  


“Well, I may be in need of some assistance. If you don’t mind,” Mr. Barrow suddenly appeared fascinated by the swirling particle of dust illuminated by the light streaming through the window.

  


“Assistance,” Richard said flatly.

  


“Ah, yes well,” Mr. Barrow paused and glanced at the door nervously before closing it. Somehow, the man’s unease helped Richard relax a bit; Mr. Barrow looked as though he may be the one about to get himself into trouble.  And that would hardly be something to object to and really Richard was going to have to get control of himself and soon. 

  


“Let’s have it out then,” Richard gave him what he hoped was an encouraging but reserved smile.

  


“Can I trust you? Only I need to know that before we go on,” Mr. Barrow blurted.  By the time you  know whether you can trust someone, it’s already too late , though he wasn’t going to say that out loud. It would be a surefire way to clam Mr. Barrow up for good and Richard was far too interested for that by now. 

  


“Yes. Well, so long as no one’s going to get hurt,” Richard quickly added. He didn’t actually think that would be an issue, but better safe than sorry. Mr. Barrow’s eyes widened at that and Richard had initially thought them a pale blue, but in this light, they seemed more of a deep grey.

  


“Of course not. What I need is—well it’s a bit complicated actually. So, it starts with the fact that Mr. Wilson’s a complete and utter tosser,” they shared a laugh at that, then Mr. Barrow moved a few steps closed and continued in a conspiratorial whisper, “and the rest of the royal lot—present company excluded, mind—aren’t much better. So Anna had this idea too—“

  


What followed was a slightly more convoluted than necessary explanation of what was ultimately a fairly straightforward downstairs usurpation plot tinseled with some patriotic nonsense. Richard was mostly confused as to who exactly Anna was and wondered Mr. Barrow felt so strongly about helping her. The brown-haired one perhaps? He’d seemed pretty friendly with her. Richard selfishly hoped it wasn’t because he fancied her. She was one of the housemaids he presumed, though apparently married to Lord Grantham’s valet, which only confused him further because he was sure the housekeeper had mentioned that the valet was married to Lady Mary’s lady’s maid. Then again, the only part of that that he had really latched on to was the fact that Mr. Barrow was apparently one of the few senior staff that  wasn’t married. 

  


“This entire house is mad, you do know that right?” Richard said incredulously after a moment. He had sensed something strange in the way that everyone behaved since he first arrived and that sense had only grown. No sort of household he’d ever heard of had the maids’ children raised alongside the family’s in the nursery. Nor accepted their apparent former chauffer son-in-law with open arms.

  


And now their butler had the gall to ask him to aid and abet with some light treason in the same slightly abashed tones that one would normally inform a valet that they needed to  help out with the dinner service, just this once . Madhouse. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if he should run for the hills or make an anthropological study.

  


“Sorry, I—I’ll leave you alone, then,” Mr. Barrow was across the room in a heartbeat, hand on the door handle. All earlier light in his face had been masked behind a flawless servant’s blank. Before he’d been close enough for Richard to reach out and touch him. Richard decided he was not going to be one to run for the hills, not today at least.

“No don’t. And here I was worried this visit was going to be boring,” Richard cocked his head and considered taking a few steps closer to the man. Mr. Barrow’s hand dropped from the door handle, but he still looked ready to bolt. He wanted to take the man by the arm and pull them back together in a conspiratorial whisper. Based on the man’s cagey demeanor, he settled for another encouraging smile. It was returned, but by a tight smile that didn’t quite reach Mr. Barrow’s eyes. 

  


“What exactly do you have in mind?” Richard asked after a few moment’s silence. Really, he should probably be more focused on the fact that he just agreed to undermine and humiliate his direct superior with barely a moment’s hesitation. He supposed he’d grown more tired of damage control than he realized.

  


“Right, well my part’s to get the footman out of the way. I need your help with the details, but I was thinking we could make up some urgent telegram, make it look like it was from London, saying that the footmen are needed back for some last-minute event,” Mr. Barrow bit his lip, but he looked a bit proud of himself. It was a clever plan overall and Richard was glad to know there was more to the man than what had initially caught his eye. Even if he was mistaken about the man, they could at least have a good chat at the pub.

  


“That’s a good plan, though a phone call may work better,” Richard suggested. He could practically feel the tension leave the man.

  


“That would be better, but I wouldn’t know who to be or what sort of voice to do,” Mr. Barrow looked down coyly. 

  


“You leave that to me,” Richard said. He had several possibilities in mind, he just had to figure out which one Mr. Barrow would find especially amusing. 

  


“Brilliant,” Mr. Barrow gave him an unabashed grin that was indeed brilliant. 

  


“If you don’t mind my asking though,” Richard paused and Mr. Barrow shook his head, “What’s in this for you? 

  


“Well I’d like to see the  King’s Page of the Backstairs taken down a few pegs, I’ll tell you that for nothing. And I guess I thought Anna acting all devious was too amusing to miss out on, I couldn’t help myself. Besides, if the whole thing goes belly up then I’ll—we’ll be far off by the time it happens and none of it’ll stick to us,” Mr. Barrow shrugged. Richard was glad that Mr. Barrow had at least considered there could be consequences. It was possible that part of the reason the man had taken him up on his offer to go to York was to remove himself from the potential fallout of this. Mr. Barrow certainly seemed clever enough for that, but Richard hoped it was at least partially for personal reasons. 

  


“Do you think it will go belly up then?” In spite of himself, Richard wasn’t too concerned. He’d always been good at talking himself out of trouble. An offhanded part of him wondered what Mr. Barrow’s Christian name was. 

  


“Eh. So long as no one ends up on death row we consider it a success in this household,” Mr. Barrow should not have been able to make those words sound as alluring as he did.

  


“Excuse me?” Richard wondered what the hell that could be referring to. The man was a bit of a whirlwind really. 

  


“Oh haven’t heard that one? I’ll have to tell you over drinks I suppose,” Thomas’ tone was light and teasing.

  


“I look forward to it,” he wasn’t sure if he hoped Mr. Barrow could tell how much, “I’ve a few things to finish here, but then I’ll find you and we can head off. That is if you’re ready.”

  


“Sounds good to me,” Mr. Barrow turned away. Richard allowed himself to watch him leave through the mirror. 

**Author's Note:**

> Later on that evening during their midnight walk:
> 
> “So what exactly did you mean with that comment about death row?”
> 
> “Oh right, so it’s all a bit convoluted, but basically Bates got convicted of murdering his wife and was sentenced to death, but it turned out that she had actually poisoned herself and framed him for her own murder because he was leaving her for Anna. Though to be honest, seems a bit dodgy saying it out loud, so who knows really.”
> 
> “…Well”
> 
> “Yeah, to be honest it’s not really as interesting as it sounded”


End file.
